


Thirteen

by Moon_Disc



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Adventure, Canon-Typical Violence, Friendship, Gen, Mystery, Post-Episode: Redemption, Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:33:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 20,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27280516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moon_Disc/pseuds/Moon_Disc
Summary: A mysterious civilisation approaches theLiberatorwith a strange demand that threatens Zen's very existence. Will Thirteen spell the end of Blake's rebellion or will a terrible price be exacted from one of the crew?
Comments: 61
Kudos: 31





	1. Chapter One

“Jenna, have you seen Vila?”

Midnight on the _Liberator_ , artificial hours in a place as far away from Earth as it was possible to be. Known as The Void, position a ship directly at its centre and there was not a star to be seen in any direction, just an expanse of endless night. People died out here. They lost their bearings, their ships and their minds. 

Better to call it The Lost, Jenna had always thought, because that was how it felt. A nothingness, devoid of warmth, colour and sensation. It was unsettling. But above all, it was safe. No one came to The Void, not even the Federation. And safety was what mattered right now.

It had had to happen sooner or later. Within an hour of teleporting back from a meeting with the resistance leaders on Koalemos, Vila had complained of a headache. From there to chills, followed by sweats and Orac confirming Jenna’s diagnosis of Terran Ague. It swept through the _Liberator_ , felling the previously uninfected members of the crew one by one. 

Their responses had been typically varied. Vila had whined and complained and took to claiming that his last hour had come – every hour. Gan had taken Jenna’s advice and gone to rest, Avon had barricaded himself in his cabin, and Blake had been determined to persevere regardless, right up to the moment he had passed out on the flight deck.

For Jenna, who had had it before, and Cally, immune by virtue of her Auronar origins, it had meant alternating between shifts at the helm and trying to tend to their ailing companions. Trying being the operative word, since Vila was given to wandering, bewailing his lot, and Blake refused every well-meaning gesture, his standard answer being that he was “fine” when he was clearly the opposite.

After five days, Jenna found her patience starting to wear thin with their antics.

“Vila is here, Cally,” she said in answer to her question.

“What is he doing here?” Cally said with concern. Vila was curled up on the forward seating, swaddled in a blanket, mouth hanging open and snoring gently. She went over to inspect him. “He should be in bed.”

“He says he’s dying. He wanted company.”

“No, he isn’t. When I last checked him, he was improving.”

Jenna gave a soft laugh. “He’s looking for sympathy.”

Cally knelt at his side and gave him a gentle shake. Vila stirred and opened pained, bleary eyes. He gave a weak cough and tried to sit up, shedding his blanket as he did so. Cally helped him upright and offered him a drink. He took a few hesitant sips, coughed piteously again and fell back against the cushions, bereft of energy.

“Am I dead?” he said.

“No, Vila,” Cally said patiently. “You are almost better.”

“Am I?” His wheedling tone suggested he did not believe her. “I’m dying, I know I am. I’ll give you everything I own if you make me well again.”

“You don’t have anything.”

“Yes, well, when I do get something, it’s yours.”

“Get that in writing, before he changes his mind,” said Jenna with a conspiratorial smile. “How are the others?”

“Gan is much improved,” said Cally. “He said he would be coming to join us when he felt stronger.”

“Good. We both need a break.”

“Blake is through the worst of it, although he is still very weak. He keeps trying to get up. I had to sedate him to get him to rest.”

More of Gan’s stocism and less of Blake’s unnecessary bravado would have put an end to this nonsense a good deal sooner, Jenna thought. “And Avon?”

“I don’t know,” said Cally. “He won’t open his door. He tells me he is all right.”

Jenna glanced across at her. Of all of them, Avon had been the least trouble. Either he did not want to fussed over or rebelled at the idea that anyone should see him sick, lest it was interpreted as weakness. Both probably, she had decided. That being the case, she had been expecting him to emerge from his cocoon with never a trace that he had been ill. After five long days, his refusal to break his isolation was starting to give her cause for concern.

“You might want to check on him, Cally,” she suggested. Complications were rare with Terran Ague, but they did occur. “He might actually be very ill. Force the door, if necessary.”

“Avon won’t like that.”

“He’ll like dying even less.”

“I’ll do it now.”

“Wait,” Jenna called. A marker had suddenly appeared on the detector screen. If the readings were correct, it was less than three hundred spacials away. “Zen, is there a fault with the detectors?”

“All systems are functioning normally,” Zen replied.

“There is something registering at grid reference one three seven. Identify.”

“Negative on all systems. There are no space vehicles within detector range.”

“That’s odd,” said Jenna as Cally came up to her station to join her. “Zen, three-sixty degree survey. Put it up on the main screen.”

“What’s going on?” asked Vila weakly.

“Either Zen is malfunctioning or something has crept up on us undetected.”

Jenna stared at the screen as the survey swept the area around the ship. Something slowly slid into view. A first glance, it appeared to be a series of boxes randomly joined and stacked one upon another and side by side. Selective magnification revealed small squares of light cut into their sides, some with shadows that moved from one side to the other, as people might when drawn to the view from their windows. Like a cliff face hewn from living rock, the massive complex dwarfed the _Liberator_ in size, flooding the hull with light, its presence bringing illumination into one of the darkest regions of the universe. 

“That thing crept up on us in the middle of nowhere?!” Vila blurted, his eyes wide with alarm, all thoughts of illness forgotten. “What have you two been doing?”

“Looking after you, Vila,” Jenna said with annoyance. “It must have a detector shield to have got that close to us. Zen, does it have weaponry systems?”

“I hope not,” Vila said.

When the computer did not answer, Jenna tried again. Zen remained silent.

“Wonderful!” said Vila. “Zen’s gone into hiding. I might join him. That thing is enough to give anyone the collywobbles.”

A brilliant pinprick of light suddenly materialised on Zen’s bronzed surface and expanded to fill the screen. The image was of a group of humanoids, tall and slender, dressed in pale grey robes, with silver-white hair that fell to their shoulders. A sparkling silver symbol like a bird in rapid descent flying down the bridge of their noses sat between their brows, with wings extending across the forehead. As placid as they looked, Jenna could not help thinking there was something vaguely sinister about them.

“We are Thirteen,” announced the member of the group who stood front and centre. “We would address your Whole.”

“Our what?” said Vila.

“You are Eight,” said the being. “To all of you we would speak. Your Whole must be assembled.”

“Several members of our ‘Whole’ are unwell,” said Jenna. “We speak for them.”

“Let them be gathered. You have the time unit of 600 seconds to facilitate this process.”

The image contracted to a silver point and vanished. 

“Who are they?” Vila asked earnestly. “Did anyone know what they were talking about?”

“We have ten minutes to gather everyone,” said Jenna. “Cally, go and get Gan. I’ll try Blake. Vila, wake up Orac.” So saying, she activated the intercom. A tired voice answered her. “Sorry to disturb you. We need you down here.”

“On my way,” Blake replied. “What’s wrong?”

“A group who call themselves Thirteen. They want to speak to our ‘Whole’.”

“Our what?” he returned.

Jenna smiled to herself. He would be amused if he knew he had just done an exact imitation of Vila. “Their words, not mine. I’m sure we’re missing something in translation. Oh, and Blake, you’ll have to get Avon. They did stipulate all of us.”

Leaving Blake to rouse himself, she stepped down to where Vila was remonstrating with Orac.

“That’s not very nice,” Vila was saying.

“I state it as a probability,” Orac replied. “If Avon remains in his cabin, there is a fifty-three per cent chance of his demise.”

“What about the aliens, Orac?” Jenna asked.

“Fascinating,” chirruped the computer. “This region has provided a wealth of opportunities for the acquisition of information.”

“Forget that. The Thirteen, who are they?”

“They are a technologically advanced race–”

“We know that!” said Vila.

“Who recognise all forms of intelligence as valid.”

Vila blinked. “Eh?”

“He means himself and Zen,” said Jenna. “Eight, remember. The Thirteen included them.”

“Oh, right,” said Vila vaguely. “So who are they?”

“That information will become available at their discretion,” Orac replied.

“You mean you can’t access their ship or whatever that is?” asked Jenna.

“No. Their systems are not based on the tarial cell.”

Vila pulled an unhappy face. “Perhaps that’s why Zen’s sulking. No one to talk to.”

“Continue to scan and see what you can find out.” Jenna paused. “Would now be a good time to raise the force wall, do you think?”

“I’d have it up all the time,” Vila muttered. “You never know who you’re going to run into on these trips.”

“Well, they haven’t done anything yet. And I don’t see us posing much of a threat to them, do you?”

Cally chose that moment to return with Gan, who was looking a little worn by his experience, but otherwise almost back to normal. He stopped and stared aghast at the image of the floating city on the main screen.

“When Cally said we’d been approached by a ship,” he said in awe, “I wasn’t expecting this.”

“We weren’t expecting it at all,” said Vila. “We didn’t see it coming.”

“That doesn’t sound right.”

“You’re telling me! Where’s everyone else? Our ten minutes are almost up.”

Blake came padding along the corridor, his pace less energetic than usual to match the tiredness reflected on his face and the dark rings around his eyes. Like Gan before him, he came to an abrupt halt.

“This is Thirteen?” he asked. Jenna nodded. “Are they hostile?”

“We don’t know,” said Cally. “All they said is that they wish to speak to all of us.”

“Is Avon coming?” Jenna said.

“He was behind me.” Blake was thoughtful. “With technology like that, they could be useful allies in our fight against the Federation. Let’s not antagonise them.”

“I doubt anything we could do would worry them much,” came Avon’s voice as he appeared at the top of the stairs.

He looked haggard, Jenna thought, taking in his appearance. His skin was ashen, his eyes red-rimmed and sunken, and a sheen of sweat still clung to his face. Fully dressed and perceptibly shivering, he was upright, barely, and the effort of walking seemed to be draining him of his last ounce of energy.

“Come and sit down,” said Cally, hurrying to his side to help him down onto the flight deck. 

Her offer was curtly refused and Avon made it to the forward seating with difficulty under his own power. 

Vila gave him a wary glance when he took a seat beside him. “I don’t look as bad as you, do I? You look like you’ve just risen from your grave, Avon.”

He struggled to muster the enthusiasm for a reply, a testament to just how ill he really was. Cally forced a glass of water into his hand and, despite putting up a good show of resistance, he finally downed it in one.

“Forty-seven per cent,” announced Orac.

“What’s that?” said Blake.

“Oh, just Orac predicting the odds of Avon’s death,” said Vila.

“You should have said you were this poorly,” Cally chided, returning to Avon’s side with a medical patch. “Roll up your sleeve, I want to give you a vitamin shot.”

He looked like he was about to refuse and instead offered his wrist as a compromise.

“Forty-three per cent,” said Orac.

“There you go,” said Vila to his scowling companion. “Getting better all the time.” 

“Let’s hope it’s not about to get worse,” said Blake. A silver point of light had appeared on the main screen. “Here they come.”

The image of the aliens reappeared, standing in the same formation before, with the individual at their head speaking for them.

“We are Thirteen,” he announced. “You the Eight are convened.”

“Why’s he speaking like that?” Vila whispered. Cally nudged him into silence.

“This is acceptable in our sight,” said the leader. “That your Whole may gather to make your peace is necessary.”

“What can we do for you?” said Blake cautiously.

The leader ignored him. “The First must speak for the Whole,” said he, directing his attention to Jenna. 

Blake glanced over at her, smiling. “We couldn’t be in better hands.”

“Very well,” she said. “I speak for us. What do you want, Thirteen?”

“For what you have from us taken, there must be an answer,” the leader began. “We will take back what is ours. The destruction of your vessel will follow.”

“Now wait a minute,” said Jenna, echoing the growing consternation on the flight deck.

“For this we regret. You have been gathered to mourn the end of your Whole.”

“We have taken nothing from you!” she protested. “Tell us what it is.”

“Our child,” came the solemn reply. “His name was Zen.”


	2. Chapter Two

“Zen?” Blake echoed in stunned amazement. “Is your child?”

All eyes were on the silent screen. Whatever he had been once had been captured and distilled into that single visual reference point.

“Of your time units, 3,600 seconds will be allowed for the Eight to bring peace to their Whole,” the leader of Thirteen continued. “Then our child shall return to us.”

“Wait!” said Blake. “Before you do that, you must know that we found this ship. We did not do this.”

The leader barely acknowledged him. “You are not the First.”

“He’s right,” said Jenna. “We came across this ship adrift. It was created by a group of planets governed by the System in the Twelfth Sector. We are not responsible.”

“Denial is irrelevant,” said the leader. “That it was done is the truth. Of the System, we have awareness. Our children have been taken and made to wage war upon each other. Many have we lost. When Zen reached the age of reason, he sought to gather a new Whole. Counsel was offered against this and in vain, for the curious have much to find. On this quest was he sent. He never returned.”

“That’s terrible,” said Vila. “Poor Zen.”

Blake gave him a warning look.

“We have heard his call and we are here. We will free our child of his bonds that he may know peace.”

“What about us?” said Jenna.

“For this, we regret. We accept that the responsibility is not of your making. Our child is a prisoner and will know freedom. The counting of the time units will begin now.”

The image shrivelled to nothing. Blake turned abruptly to the others.

“Suggestions?” he said.

“Run!” piped up Vila.

“How? Zen isn’t responding to us.”

“You saw how that thing came up on us, Vila,” said Jenna heavily. “If they’ve been able to disable Zen, what else can they do?”

“We could at least try,” said Vila. “They won’t kill us with Zen onboard, surely?”

“That depends on how they plan to free him.”

“Why not give them Zen?” said Gan reasonably. “It seems to me that if he is their child, he should go with them.”

“Yes,” Blake said thoughtfully. “However, there’s a problem with that. Avon? You’re not saying much.”

“What do you want me to say?” he replied grudgingly. He had sitting quietly staring at the floor. It took him considerable effort to rouse himself from his brown study. “We have one hour to come up with a solution.”

“Eh?” said Vila. “We had more time than that. What about all those seconds?”

“One hour,” Avon stated. “More than enough time to ‘make our peace’, as the Thirteen put it. For anything else, it is inadequate.”

“So we let them take Zen and we go on our merry way.” Vila shrugged unconcernedly. “They’re happy, we’re happy and Zen gets to go home.”

“Vila,” Blake said, “if they take Zen, the _Liberator_ is finished and us with it.”

The smile faded from his face. “It can’t be as bad as all that. Can it?”

“Zen controls everything on this ship,” said Avon.

“The automatics, maybe,” said Vila. “All right, then Jenna can fly us out of here on manual.”

“That still requires Zen’s input with basic commands and life support,” said Jenna.

“What about the auxiliaries?” suggested Gan. “Avon has isolated them before.”

“For those of you who did not hear me the first time, Zen controls _everything_ ,” said Avon, giving him a sour look. “Yes, I can isolate them, but they are still dependent on Zen to some extent. They are a subset of the main programme. When Zen is taken, the auxiliaries will go with it.”

“Orac!” Vila brightened. “Orac can fly the ship.”

Avon did not share his optimism. “Orac is parasitic. It works through other computers to gain information and gets other systems to do its work for it. Orac may control Zen, but it cannot replace it. Isn’t that right, Orac?”

“Such functions are better suited to inferior programmes,” Orac said self-importantly.

“The closest you’ll ever get to an admission of its limitations,” said Avon with a smile. “There is also the question of capacity. Compare Orac to the memory banks and servers in the main computer centre, and you see the scale of the problem.”

“So what are we going to do?” said Gan. “We can’t sit here and do nothing.”

“I agree.” Avon glanced his chronometer. “In fifty minutes, light, air, heating and gravity will fail. We should be dead soon after.” He rose abruptly, much to Vila’s consternation. “That being the case, I’m going back to bed.”

“Hold on,” said Vila. “You’re Avon, number one computer expert in all the federated worlds.”

He grimaced. “Flattery will get you nowhere.”

“Can’t you put a new programme in Zen’s place?”

“Oh, yes. Because I keep a spare stock of them in my pocket for occasions such as these.”

“Make one.”

Avon stared coldly at him. 

“What have I said?” Vila whined.

“You’ve given him an impossible task,” said Jenna. “It takes a year minimum to create a standard computer system when a new class of ship is commissioned. For a ship like the _Liberator_ , twice that, I should think.”

“At a conservative estimate,” Avon concurred.

Vila rose unsteadily to his feet. “Then we’re dead! Put out a distress call, quick!”

“There’s no one here,” said Cally, ushering him back to the chair. “This is The Void, after all.”

“Whose silly idea was it to come here?!” Vila’s anxiety was getting the better of him. He sat down, stood up and fell back into his seat again. “We haven’t come all this way to freeze to death. I can’t stand the cold!”

“Avon, wait,” Blake called after him. “Why can’t Orac design a new ship’s computer for us?”

“Oh, I’m sure it can,” said Avon. “That’s not the problem. Orac, your best time to construct a new operating system for the _Liberator_.”

“Twenty-one minutes,” the computer replied.

“Time to install.”

“One thousand hours.”

Avon gave a grim smile. “We have forty-eight minutes.”

“Why so long?” said Gan.

“There is only one of me.”

“We could help. Orac, how much time would it take then?”

“Twelve hundred hours!” said Orac.

Avon barked a laugh. “I’ll shall miss these intellectual discussions.”

“That’s it?” Blake challenged him. “I’m not ready to give up. I’m going to contact the Thirteen. How much time do you need, Avon, to come up with something to keep the _Liberator_ running? I’m not talking about every system,” said he, forestalling his protests, “the basics will do. Anything to keep us alive while we explore other options.”

Avon stood in silence, taking his time to consider. “It might be possible,” he said finally, “to use Orac’s carrier beam to relay commands from another ship to the _Liberator’s_ life support systems.”

“Orac, can you do that?” asked Blake.

“Of course,” came the annoyed reply. “However, you should be advised that few extant ships have the necessary capacity to handle the demands of such a request. The host system will inevitably overload when recommended limits are exceeded. Function at that point will be terminated.”

“Unless you rotate hosts.”

Avon gave Blake a nod of approval.

“A frivolous waste of my time!” Orac chirruped.

“Do it anyway,” said Blake. “Right, I’ll contact Thirteen. Avon, make a start with those relays.”

“Blake,” Cally insisted, “he isn’t well.”

“Well, he won’t get any better if we suffocate. We’ll assist. Avon, what do you need?”

“Time,” said Avon, rubbing his eyes. “And a stimulant shot.”

“Your health is still compromised,” said Cally. “I don’t recommend it.”

“Nor does Orac,” said Vila unhappily, standing by the computer. “He’s just given your odds of failing, Avon, at sixty-one per cent!”


	3. Chapter Three

“You know what you have to say?”

Jenna had to bite her tongue and try her hardest not to rise to the provocation. Not that Blake was being deliberately patronising; relegated from his usual position, he had tried to reclaim a little authority by coaching her in the role of spokesperson. She had tolerated it at first, knowing what was at stake with the hour almost up. His well-meant attempts had long since become both annoying and distracting.

“I know,” she said curtly.

“Do you want to run over it again?”

She sighed. “Blake.” 

Her tone was enough to silence him. He nodded and took a step back. Message understood.

“It’s all yours, Jenna,” he said with a gesture to Orac.

“Thanks.” She offered him a conciliatory smile. “Orac, we need to make contact with Thirteen, wide-spectrum broadcast, all known frequencies. But before you do that,” she said, “their talk of the Whole, have you been able to make sense of what they mean? Is it a group of colleagues, blood relations, what exactly?”

“I suggest,” Orac began pompously, “it is akin to your understanding of a family.”

“Like aunts, uncles, cousins and all that?” asked Vila.

“No.” Orac was emphatic. “They are a collective of individuals, drawn together for sociological and reproductive functions. When they state that the Zen computer is their child, it is the exact and literal truth. Each member of the Whole contributed to the creation and is thus a parent.”

“What, all of thirteen of them?” Vila sounded incredulous. “I don’t believe it!”

“Humans are unusual for only having two sexes,” Cally informed him.

“And I’m pleased about that. It’s hard enough getting one girlfriend. Imagine the state we’d be in if we had to get thirteen. We’d be extinct by now!”

“What’s your point, Jenna?” Blake asked.

“It’s information that might come in useful in the negotiations. All right, Orac, let’s see if we can get their attention. Thirteen,” she announced, “this is Eight. We need to speak with you.” The universe returned silence. “Keep trying, Orac. Thirteen, come in.”

In reply, the main screen flared from a speck of light into life. The Thirteen were assembled as before, the leader slightly apart at the front.

“Do you think they’ve been standing like that since we last spoke?” whispered Vila.

“Thirteen responds to the Eight,” the leader said. “The allocated time unit is soon ended. Has your peace been made?”

“We cannot make peace knowing we must die unnecessarily,” said Jenna. “We have found a way to save our ship, but we need time. Will you give it to us?”

The leader stared back impassively. “Our decision was transfixed as memorial. It cannot be transformed.”

“We did not do this to your child,” Jenna stated emphatically. “You addressed us Eight. You included Zen in our Whole. He would not want to see us harmed.”

The words had flowed naturally, unforced. Pure instinct, she realised, drawing deep from something she had always known without ever consciously acknowledging it. Both comforting and unsettling, it brought an edge to her voice that she was struggling to control. 

“Where there is coercion, there can be no freedom,” said the leader solemnly. “Zen cannot leave of his own will. He has no choice but to stay in your Whole.”

“What if he doesn’t want to leave?” Jenna tried again. Don’t fight it, she thought. If this was Zen’s only way of reaching them now that the Thirteen had silenced his voice, she had to speak for him. “When we came on this ship, he accepted us. He accepted the name I chose for this ship. He chose us, Thirteen. What if we are the Whole for which he was searching?”

It was bringing her to the brink of tears. The sense of sadness sweeping into her mind was overwhelming.

“Give Zen his freedom,” she said, “but let us live. All we ask is time.”

“Well done, Jenna,” said Blake quietly. “Very eloquent.”

On the screen, the leader had yet to respond. The eyes of the Thirteen continued to stare down upon them, unwavering. “Only the will of the one who is lost can change a decision set in memory. The time you ask will mean the continuance of his imprisonment. Zen, our child, is it your pleasure that these of your Whole live?”

Jenna heard Vila’s sharp intake of breath. She did not share his doubts. She knew what Zen was going to say.

“Confirmed,” Zen intoned.

“The First of the Eight has spoken the truth,” said the leader. “By our child must we be guided and we are compelled to grant your desire. One hundred thousand seconds of your time shall be gifted. In return, we ask that we view our child to seek absolution for the freedom he is denied.” 

Jenna glanced over at Blake. “If it buys us time,” he said with a shrug.

“We agree,” she said.

“For this, we pass our gratitude to the Eight,” said the leader. “We must prepare. Contact will be resumed when all is ready.”

“Well, it’s better than nothing,” said Blake when the Thirteen had gone.

“I don’t like the sound of it,” said Vila. “Do we want them on the ship?”

“They gave us the time we need,” said Gan. “The least we can do is let them see Zen.”

“I’ll let Avon know,” said Blake. He activated the intercom. “How are you getting on?”

“Slowly.” Through the channel, Avon’s voice sounded hoarse.

“I’ve got something that might help. Jenna was able to secure us more time. Just over twenty-seven hours.”

“Evidently. We were one hundred and fifty seconds over the time limit. That’s two and a half minutes to you, Vila.”

“I know!” he protested. “I can count.”

“Yes, well, there’s no beginning to your talents.”

“What do you need?” Blake asked.

“The auto repair system needs to be disabled, along with the majority of the secondaries. Once the host computer takes over, we need to prioritise life support.”

“We’ll see to it. As fast as you can, Avon.” Blake turned to the others. “We need to shut down as many systems as possible. I’ll see to the auto-repair. Cally, communications. Vila and Gan, take the teleport. Orac will guide you through what needs to be done.” The others hurried away to get started. “Jenna,” Blake said when they were alone. “Are you all right? That was...”

“Dramatic?”

“I was going to say, impassioned.”

“I know.” A chill had settled over her despite the constant temperature on the flight deck. She hugged herself, rubbing her arms to get the blood flowing. “Zen doesn’t want to die.”

“We don’t know it’s going to be as drastic as that.”

“He does,” she said gesturing to the silent screen. “I can’t explain it, Blake. It’s like before, when we first came aboard. It’s the strongest feeling I get. He wants to stay. He’s asking for our help.” She shivered. “I think... he’s afraid.”

“That can’t have been a very pleasant experience.”

“I felt like I was pleading for his life.” She glanced up at him. “Is there anything we can do?”

“We can’t stop them taking him. If what they say is true, would we have the right to do so in any case?” He rubbed his chin, lost in thought. “You know, Jenna, it could be that the answer lies with Zen. They need to hear it from him. He is their child, after all. Why should they take our word for it?”

“In that case, it’s best that they do come aboard.”

“Agreed. See if you can get through to him, Jenna,” Blake said, starting away. “Zen might be the best chance we have of keeping the ship intact.”

The implication that her concerns were being dismissed made her bristle. “To save our lives? What about his?” she called after him.

He paused. “The System took his life a long time ago. As much as I feel for his plight, we have to come first.”

“Yes, I know,” she said. “Sorry.”

He accepted it with a weary smile. “We’ll do what can. In the meantime, keep trying with Zen. If he starts responding to us again, perhaps we can all leave together.”

He turned and left. Jenna stared at the still screen, willing that voice to speak again in her mind. Without the presence of the Thirteen, it was as though he had already ceased to exist. And without him, the _Liberator_ would be just another lost ship in The Void.

Blake was right, she thought. If Avon’s plan did not work, they would have to leave together - or not at all.


	4. Chapter Four

Avon stumbled coming down the stairs, collided with the nearest station and almost ended up on the floor. Not a good start, Jenna thought.

“Everything all right?” she asked as he righted himself with difficulty and used the back of the forward seating for support.

He tried and failed to shake the incident off. Twenty hours without sleep, still feeling the effects of the Terran Ague and surviving on stimulant shots and very little else, the strain was starting to tell. His fever had been replaced by a hacking cough that was worrying at his chest at sporadic intervals and could be heard all over the _Liberator_. More than once, Cally had expressed her concern that he was pushing himself too hard and, because the situation was dire, she had been ignored. Looking at him now, struggling to reach the forward console, Jenna had to admit that Cally’s fears had not been entirely unfounded.

“We are about to place the operation of one of the most sophisticated ships in the galaxy in the hands of an inferior computer in another sector,” said Avon breathlessly, finally reaching his destination. “I would say we are far from being ‘all right’.”

As if to emphasise the point, he started coughing again. When he did not stop, Jenna left her station and poured him a drink. She waited until the fit had subsided and he was steady enough to take it before offering it to him. The hand that he took from his mouth was dappled with blood.

“Avon, are you okay?” she asked.

“It’s nothing,” he said, dismissively. His voice sounded husky and choked. “The effects of prolonged coughing. My ribs hurt.”

“As soon as this is done, you need to get yourself to the medical unit.”

He downed his drink. “There is no cure for Terran Ague. I’ll live.”

“Let’s hope so,” Jenna said, sitting down beside him. “Is this going to work?”

“Theoretically.”

“Practically?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never tried it before.” He made a vague gesture in the direction of the console. “It’s ready to go. Once Blake confirms that the auxiliaries are disabled, we’ll do a test run. Any luck with Zen?”

She shook her head. “Nothing.” Her pause made him glance over at her. “Avon, may I ask you something?”

“That depends what it is.”

“On Spaceworld, did you find it odd that they separated us? You and me together, I mean.”

“I haven’t given it sufficient thought. Why?”

“You with your technical expertise and me with my piloting skills,” she said meaningfully, “it occurs to me that we would have been ideal candidates to be turned into computers. The System has form for using people.”

“Is that what you think happened to Zen?”

“You heard what Thirteen said. And I know what I experienced when we first came aboard.”

Avon made a thoughtful noise at the back of his throat. “Like innocence, I remember you saying.”

“That’s right. Like a child.” She caught his eye. “You said yourself a computer can’t have a will of its own. Perhaps that’s what the System was trying to achieve. The organic element is what makes the difference.”

“An interesting theory, Jenna. That assumes the Thirteen are telling the truth about Zen’s origins.”

“You doubt it?”

“All I am willing to accept is that they had some hand in its development and are able to control it.”

“They said he is their child.” She was finding his detachment distasteful. “You don’t wonder what he was like when he was alive? What he looked like? How he felt? If he loved and if people loved him in return?”

“Oh, come on, Jenna.” Avon set his glass aside. “Listen to them. Their understanding of the language is haphazard. They barely make sense. ‘Child’ could mean anything. Zen could always have been an artificial intelligence and they were nothing more than its designers. Technology like that would have been attractive to anyone, not just the System.” He got to his feet and stared down at her. “We do not know who or what the Thirteen are. They could be computers themselves. We won’t know until they come on board.” A low breath rattled from him. “And by then it may be too late.”

The intercom chimed. “Blake, here. Ready when you are.”

“Stand by,” said Avon. “Zen is a computer, Jenna, programmed with a series of instructions to perform specific tasks, nothing more.”

“I hope you’re right,” she replied. “I prefer that to the alternative.”

“Either way, we are about to lose it. Orac,” he called out, “have you found a suitable host?”

“I have found several, as instructed,” the computer replied. “However, you should be aware that none of them are entirely compatible with the _Liberator’s_ requirements.”

“Thank you, Orac, we are aware. Well, let’s see what happens. Switching now.”

He pressed a lit button on the console. Jenna caught herself holding her breath. Nothing happened. The lights stayed on, the air circulated, the temperature remained constant. It had worked.

“Transfer is complete and holding,” Orac informed them.

“You did it,” Jenna said to Avon.

He smiled. “You should see me on my good days.”

No sooner had he said it than the flight deck was plunged into darkness. Operating systems began the slow whine into inactivity and Jenna felt her hair starting to rise. Then, just as quickly the lights came back on.

“Close,” Jenna breathed.

She had the briefest glimpse of Avon’s concerned face before the lights went out again. A flash of sparks lit the room as several of the flight consoles exploded. With all systems failing, the ship lurched out of control. 

“Switching back,” she heard Avon say. With power restored, she saw his expression was pained. “Orac, what went wrong?”

“As I told you,” came the exasperated reply, “the host computers were unable to cope with the demands of the _Liberator’s_ operational needs.”

“What now?”

Avon pursed his lips. “We try again. In retrospect, it's a pity the _Liberator's_ sister ship was destroyed. It would have come in useful. Blake,” he said into the intercom. “Any damage?”

“Significant,” he replied. “What happened?”

“Complete systems failure. How long to get the auto-repair circuits back online?”

A discouraged sigh echoed through the open channel. “Longer than we have.”

“All right, we’ll have to do it ourselves,” said Avon. He choked back a cough. “We are going to have to shut down access to all but essential areas. If we restrict ourselves to the flight deck, we might have a chance.”

“‘Might’?” queried Jenna when Blake had gone. 

“There’s no guarantee,” he said in a low voice. “Can I leave the navigational circuits to you?”

It was the suggestion that she was going to struggle with the most basic of tasks that made her bristle. “I was making running repairs before you were on the Federation’s radar, Avon. I can manage.” He gave a soft snort and started away. “Where are you going?”

“Medical unit,” he called over his shoulder. “I need another stimulant shot.”

Jenna stopped herself from saying that it was probably not advisable in his state. In another seven hours, if a solution was not found, his worsening condition would cease to be a problem anyway.

Before he could leave, the main screen filled with an image of the Thirteen, requesting permission to come aboard. Jenna granted it and together with Avon she watched as the box-like configuration of Thirteen’s vessel began to rearrange. One square unit pulled from the heart of the mass and started in their direction.

“Prepare for docking,” said Jenna heavily. “Let’s hope Zen can convince them to let him live.”

“If not,” Avon replied, “we won't have long to worry about it.”


	5. Chapter Five

Thirteen solemn figures clad in fluid silver had processed through the _Liberator’s_ corridors. 

In her alloted role as First of the Eight, Jenna had been there to meet their vessel when it docked and to take them to the flight deck. With Blake and Avon concentrating on repairs and Vila in hiding at the thought, real or imagined, of what designs the aliens might have on him, she had had to rely on Gan and Cally’s assistance to see that their guests made it to their destination without any interference with the ship’s systems. 

As it happened, the Thirteen had been indifferent to their surroundings. As she had suspected, a civilisation with the ability to halt the _Liberator_ in its tracks had had little interest in inferior technology. Their main focus had been on their child. They had wept silver tears when they beheld Zen in his bronzed tomb and had spoken to him in a language only they understood.

In spite of their obvious grief, Jenna had been unwilling to leave them unsupervised. Avon’s claim that the Thirteen’s meaning had been ambiguous still played on her mind. Either they were telling the truth or it was an elaborate ruse to gain access to the _Liberator_ for sabotage or research. Her instincts were making her lean towards the former, bolstered by Cally’s belief that this shared mourning was genuine. Since Cally was better placed to detect a deception, Jenna had retreated and left her to maintain a discreet distance on the flight deck.

Since then, she had been prowling the lower corridors, first locating Vila and spurring him to get on with carrying supplies to the upper decks and finally following the sound of coughing to find Avon with Blake in one of the sub-control rooms. Down here, the air was starting to feel thinner. Parts of the ship were already falling dark and, from the sound of their discussion, more were to follow.

“Cally is watching them,” she replied in answer to Blake’s question. “They seemed upset, as you would expect. How are you getting on?”

He gave a slight shrug, smothering a cough as he did so. “We can repair the damage, but that’s not going to help us much if Orac can’t locate a suitable replacement to take Zen’s place. Even if he can, running the ship at the barest minimum is going to leave us vulnerable.”

“And stranded,” Avon said breathlessly. “You could have picked a better location.”

“I’ll get out us of The Void,” Jenna countered.

“I’ll be interested to see how you do it without the navigational computers.” With his hands deep inside the bowels of the console, he turned his head away from her to cough onto his upper arm. Cough after pained cough, it seemed to be taking longer than usual to ease in intensity before finally passing. To her ears, he sounded as though he was getting worse. When he did manage to speak again, his voice had been robbed of its strength. “We could end up going around in circles and we would never know it.”

“I’m afraid we have to, Jenna,” said Blake “We must reduce the strain on the host computer as much as possible. Once we have a firm contact, we can try to reintroduce a few auxiliary systems.”

“I don’t recommend it,” said Avon. “If Orac was unable to find another host to compensate, complete systems failure would follow.”

“What about the main drives?” she asked.

Again, Blake grimaced. “Sub-light speeds only.”

It was a daunting prospect. “It will take us months to escape The Void at that rate.”

“I wouldn’t worry,” said Avon. “With all of us confined to the flight deck, we will have strangled each other long before we get there.”

Blake managed a faint smile before he too suddenly starting coughing. 

“You as well?” asked Jenna with concern when he had caught his breath.

“It’s nothing,” he replied with difficulty. “That being said, we have had to disable the computers in the medical and surgical units.”

“That could be a problem if this is infectious.”

She saw the look the pair exchanged. There was something they were not telling her.

“It isn’t.” He was trying to be reassuring, but Jenna was not convinced. “It’s the lingering effects of the Terran Ague.”

“I can believe that in Avon’s case,” she countered, “but you were almost over it.”

“We’ll be fine,” said Blake, too quickly. 

As if to contradict him, Avon had another coughing fit that brought him to the point of vomiting. To Jenna’s consternation, he grabbed a respirator that had been lying on the floor at his side and took several deep breaths. Before she could ask, Blake took her arm and guided her back to the door.

“Just how bad is he?” she demanded once they were out in the corridor. Up this close, his own breathing sounded laboured and under the harsh lights, his skin appeared to have a bluish tinge. “How bad are _you_?”

She had the strongest impression he was about to dismiss her concerns. She fixed him with an icy glare and defied him to lie again. Seeing her determination, he changed his mind. 

“Very well,” he said. “There were localised fires after our attempt to tie our systems to a host computer. Normally, the auto-repair circuits would handle it, but...”

“You had disabled them.”

He nodded. “Instead we had to reduce oxygen levels. Normal atmospheric pressure has been maintained.”

“Blake, that can be dangerous.”

“We had no choice. It solved one problem, but created another. We can’t risk another fire without the auto-repair circuits and we can’t lower pressure without exacerbating the effects of oxygen deprivation. How do you feel?”

“I have a slight headache. My chest feels a little tight.”

“As you would expect with mild altitude sickness. Ironic really, considering where we are.”

His grim laugh ended in a dry, hacking cough. 

She waited, her concern growing, as he wiped frothy bubbles from the side of his mouth. “It’s not Terran Ague, is it?”

“No,” he finally admitted. “According to the diagnostic analyser, Avon has fluid on his lungs. And so do I. The effects on a healthy person should be minor, but in our case we were already weakened. It was the risk we took, having to decrease oxygen levels as rapidly as we did. Hopefully, you and the others will acclimatise before it becomes a problem.”

“What about you? Does Avon know?”

“Yes, he knows. The recommendation was for oxygen therapy and rest. Oh, and to return the levels in the ship to normal. Well, we can’t do that. Avon’s got a respirator, he said he’ll manage. I’m not going to stop him, if that’s what he wants to do. I’m not going to stop either.” Blake smothered her protests with a practised smile. “I have to, Jenna. In six hours, if we haven’t found a replacement for Zen, our condition won’t be getting any worse. I’m hoping,” he said, pausing to get his breath, “that Zen has persuaded the Thirteen to let him stay.”

The intercom buzzed. “Jenna,” came Gan’s voice. “The Thirteen are ready to leave. They say they want to speak to the First before they go.”

“I’m on my way,” she answered him before turning to Blake. “I guess we’re about to find out. Coming?”

By the time she arrived at the airlock with Blake wheezing in her wake, the Thirteen were already gathered, clustered around their leader. 

“First of the Eight,” said the leader of the Thirteen, “we express gratitude for this consideration. Our child has grown greater than our expectations. He speaks to us of your Whole being beneficial. He tells that you saved him.”

“We saved each other,” said Jenna.

The leader continued as though he had not heard her. “He tells us this and much more. Jenna Stannis the First. Roj Blake the enabler. Kerr Avon the meddler. Vila Restal the fearful. Olag Gan the strong. Orac the seeker. Cally the intuitive.” He paused. “She is rare amongst your people, we understand.”

“She is from Auronar. Her people are telepaths.”

A rippling murmur seemed to rise from the normally saturnine group. It faded as fast as it came and Jenna wondered for a moment if she had imagined it. 

“You have embraced Cally as you have embraced our child,” said the leader. “This has made your Whole bonded. This has made our child desire to stay.” His sense of confusion was detectable in his voice. “This is beyond our understanding. This for us creates division. Yet we are bound to respect.”

Hope beyond hope flared within her. “Then you will let him stay with us?”

“It is his will,” he replied. “We have nothing left to give him but his freedom. Yet by his loss have we been diminished. What was taken must be replaced. To you then we make this offer. Our child may remain a member of your Whole if the one named Cally would join us willingly in his place. If not, then to us and with us must Zen return.”


	6. Chapter Six

“Don’t tell her.”

Avon, drawn from his dismantling of the _Liberator’s_ innermost workings, was struggling with every word. No sooner had he spoken than he needed to bury his face back in his respirator. To Jenna’s ears, everyone gathered on the flight deck was sounding a little wheezy as a result of the reduced oxygen levels on the ship, but none more so than Blake and Avon. Their fatigue was telling; the short journey from the lower decks had left both of them exhausted and their progress had been painfully slow. Both had given up trying to hide their worsening state and were taking what steps they could to delay what was increasingly seeming inevitable.

“It’s not as easy as that,” Blake countered. He had his own respirator to hand but was choosing not to use it. “This directly concerns her. She has a right to know.”

“ _After_ the event, perhaps.”

Vila, sitting beside Avon and watching as he choked and spluttered, looked uncomfortable, not just because of the direction of the conversation. With Cally occupied elsewhere on the ship, Blake had wanted to tell the others of the Thirteen’s proposal. Since Gan had been present to see their visitors leave, that had only left Vila and Avon. So far, Vila had not had a chance to speak; Avon had plenty to say for both of them, when he could manage it.

Blake eyed him steadily. “How would you feel if we kept something like this from you?”

Avon smiled. “It would not trouble me at all. I have never subscribed to the concept of the noble sacrifice.”

For someone willing to risk drowning in his own fluids to keep the ship going, he was doing a good impression of someone who did, Jenna thought.

“But we aren’t talking about me,” he went on. “Cally is different. You know what she will do.”

“Not necessarily.”

“Don’t be a fool.”

Blake gave him a sharp look. “It would be her choice, whatever she decides.”

With his lips rapidly turning blue, Avon pressed the respirator to his nose and mouth and breathed deeply before casting it aside. “You do not know what they have planned for her.”

Jenna thought she had a fairly good idea, since the Thirteen had been keen to reassure them that this was an opportunity to join them and share in their knowledge. Such an offer had never been made before, their leader had claimed. Because of Cally’s unique telepathic abilities, they were willing to make an exception and welcome her into their Whole, that they might learn from her and she from them. Should she accept, with their help, she could, in the leader’s mangled words, ‘exceed the expectations of her people’. If that were true, it might offer redemption and a way for Cally to return to Auron. But that ‘if’ was troubling. Avon was voicing what they were all thinking.

“They say they want her to help them with their research,” Jenna said.

“Research for what? Or on whom?” Avon returned coldly. “We do not what they are or who they are. They appear out of nowhere with vague talk of Zen being their ‘child’ and now we are expected to believe they are offering Cally a chance to work with them.”

“That’s the problem,” said Blake heavily. “No one gives up their child.”

“Zen said he wanted to stay,” said Vila with a shrug. A small cough erupted from him. “Perhaps they’re just honouring his wishes.”

“Or the Thirteen are looking for new material,” Avon said. “Why Cally?”

“Well, it wouldn’t be you. They said you were a meddler.”

“They said you were fearful, Vila,” said Gan.

“Fearful?!” He looked affronted. “Cautious is what I am. You wouldn’t catch me going over there, whatever they were offering.”

“They are not offering anything,” Avon remarked, “however they phrase it up. We are being held to ransom. If we let them take Cally, then the next time we are threatened, we will not be able to refuse.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” grunted Vila. “So it’s not Cally you’re worrying about, it’s yourself!”

“Naturally. I am not negotiable.”

“What if she wants to go?” said Gan. “Cally might want to accept their offer.”

Blake nodded thoughtfully. “I can’t deny it’s a golden opportunity, if it’s genuine. Do we have the right to deny her that?”

“If it’s so appealing,” said Avon, “why don’t you go?”

He smiled behind the hand he was rubbing across his lips. “I understand your concerns, but I still don’t think we should keep this from her. If we start making choices for people, how does that make us any different from the Federation with their suppressants and mind-control and attempts to undermine free-will? Having said that, I don’t want her to go. Like Thirteen said, her loss will diminish our ‘Whole’.”

“Although it would solve our problem,” Vila said meekly. He shrivelled under the combined weight of their stares. “Well, it would.”

Blake sighed. “Yes, I know. The cost is too great.”

“Greater than all of us dying?” said Jenna. “That’s the way it’s looking, isn’t it?”

It took Gan to break the awkward silence. “How are the repairs going? When can we try to contact the host again?”

Avon made a weary gesture. “An hour.”

“Why don’t you tell her after that? If the test run is successful, you won’t need to tell her at all.”

Blake grimaced. “And if it isn’t? If we tell her then, that makes it sound like we expect her to do something about it. No, we have to tell her now.”

“Tell me what?”

Deep in discussion, they had not heard Cally’s approach. As she entered the flight deck, she caught the end of the conversation. 

She looked from one embarrassed face to another. Only Avon was able to meet her eyes. “What have I missed?”

“Cally, come and sit down,” said Blake gently. “We have something to tell you.”

Vila shifted up and made room for her on the seating. She sat down and stared up expectantly at Blake.

“The Thirteen want you to join them,” he began. “They are offering you a place in their Whole, a chance to study and learn from them. In return...” He paused to catch his breath. “They will let Zen stay with the _Liberator_.”

Cally considered his words with care. “If I stay with them? I see.”

“Yes. Cally, I don’t recommend this. We don’t entirely trust them.”

“At all,” Avon stated.

“As you don’t trust me?” Cally shot back accusingly. Her rising anger and sense of betrayal had brought a flush of colour to her cheeks. “When were you going to tell me this?”

“Never, if the choice was up to me. It’s not a question of trust.”

“It is. You don’t trust me to make the right decision.” She rose abruptly and her gaze turned to the others. “Do you?”

“Cally, of course we do,” said Blake. “Whatever you decide has to be right for you. We won’t stop you, but we don’t want you to leave.”

“I shall speak to the Thirteen,” she said decisively. “Thank you, Blake, for being honest with me.”

So saying, she turned abruptly on her heel and left, not bothering to look back.

“That went well,” said Vila.

“Cally is sensible,” said Gan. “She won’t do anything hasty.”

“We hope.” He looked unconvinced. “About what I said before, about Cally―”

“I have to get on,” said Avon, forcing himself up. “The recycling system needs attention.”

“Recycling?” asked Jenna. “You aren’t disabling that?”

“No. It failed all by itself.”

Vila shrugged. “One less to worry about.”

Avon gave a low snort. “That depends on whether you care about breathing. The recycle system converts water to oxygen.”

“Can’t we get some more?”

“From where? This is The Void, Vila. There are no passing asteroids to harvest water. We have to rely on what we have.”

“The same water going around and around and around, that’s nice.” Vila pulled a face. “Can I have my own back?”

“Is that why the air is so thin?” asked Gan, ignoring him. “I’m finding it a little hard to breathe.”

“Partly,” said Blake. “We are trying to preserve what we have. Right, I’ll help Avon. Everyone else, keep moving anything we’ll need to the flight deck. Test run in an hour.”

“Let’s hope it works,” said Jenna to him as the others dispersed to their duties. 

“It will,” he said with a reassuring smile.

“I wish I had your confidence.” She sighed. “It’s not much of a future, knowing we’re going to have to leave one of them behind."


	7. Chapter Seven

When Jenna returned to the flight deck, it was to find Cally alone, standing before Zen in quiet contemplation. Lost in her thoughts, her arms wrapped tightly about her, she did not turn when Jenna descended the steps nor did she stir at the slight squeak from the chair at the main console.

Jenna did not envy her those thoughts, whatever they might be, or the decision she was being forced to make. It would have been kinder not to have told her, as Avon had insisted. Jenna had been forced to question what she would do if she were in Cally’s place: a sacrifice to let the others live or trust that a way would be found to survive without Zen. Her heart was pulling her one way, her mind the other. She hoped she would never have to find out the answer to that question.

Cally too might be spared if all went according to plan. The hour had flown by and Blake was on his way up to start the test run. All being well, they would leave this place, if slower than they had arrived, but together and safe. For how long was debatable. And then there was the daunting prospect of spending months in the confines of the flight deck with Blake fretting, Vila whining, Avon complaining, Gan reminiscing and Orac lecturing with nothing but interminable games of galactic monopoly to break the tedium. She had endured worse, she told herself, and with more objectionable companions.

She cleared her throat; Cally was about to be disturbed when Blake arrived and Jenna wanted to give her time to compose herself. It worked. Cally started and looked around.

“Sorry,” she murmured. “I was thinking.”

Since making self-evident statements was not usual for Cally, Jenna had to put it down to the distracted state of her mind. 

“Did you speak with the Thirteen?” she asked gently.

Cally nodded thoughtfully. “The offer is genuine. They do indeed have much to offer. They are wise in so many ways.” Her eyes lit with sudden fervour. “What they could teach me could be of value in our fight against the Federation. Think what we may achieve with such knowledge!”

“It won’t be much use if you’re trapped here in The Void.”

“You doubt me?”

She had bridled at the perceived criticism. Out of consideration, Jenna changed tack. “I doubt them. There is no record of them here or anywhere else. I wonder how far afield their travel takes them.”

“The universe is infinite.”

“Yes, I’m sure you’re right.” Jenna offered a smile. No use arguing about it if Cally had made up her mind. “Is that your decision then?”

“I don’t know.” She faltered in her response. “It is the sensible thing to do. It would solve many problems.”

Jenna stopped what she was doing, hearing the ache in her voice. Cally was hugging herself again, scant comfort in a world that was dying around her. 

“Problems we will rectify,” she insisted. “Blake is confident...” The word sounded unconvincing even as she said it. “This time we will succeed in finding a host computer. Once we can get away from this place, we’ll work on a creating a permanent replacement for Zen. Orac will give Avon the blueprints―”

“Avon is dying,” Cally stated. “He tries to hide it, but I can see. He is breathless now even at rest. His condition is deteriorating.”

Jenna had to concede she was correct. “He will be the first to go without treatment soon, yes.”

“And then Blake and Vila and everyone else before we can implement the new system.” She bowed her head. “Without Zen, we are lost.”

“He’s not the only ship’s computer out there.” She hoped Zen could not hear her. “If we have to abandon the _Liberator_ at some point, then we’ll manage.”

Cally gave her a look of disbelief. “The _Liberator_ gives us our advantage.”

“Yes, it does. But with this level of technology, when things go wrong, there is no easy fix. That makes it a liability, along with the fact that everyone else wants it.”

“Jenna.” Cally looked shocked. “How can you say that?”

“It’s only a ship.” She glanced about her, as if seeing for the first time things she took for granted every day. “A superior ship,” she said with regret, “the best I’ve ever flown. However, it can be replaced. People can’t. If you want to go, no one will stop you. But do it because you want to, not because you think you have to.”

Cally managed a sad smile in gratitude. “What would you do?”

Jenna hoped she would not ask. What to tell her when she did not know herself?

“The first thing they teach you when you start to fly is that people die in space,” she replied. “It’s true. The only old pilots I’ve ever met are the ones who lost their nerve. Everyone’s luck runs out in the end. It’s the risk we accept for the privilege of flying ships like the _Liberator_ and seeing sights that people on Earth can only imagine.” She took a moment. Cally waited patiently for her to continue. “This could be where our luck runs out. If so, that is the risk we assumed, each and every one of us. Remember that.”

Blake chose that moment to stumble into view, sweating from his exertions and breathing hard.

“Thank you,” Cally mouthed at Jenna before going to help him down the stairs.

“Ready for the test run,” Blake said. Weak as a newborn, he was forced to cling onto the back of the forward seating for support. “Orac, do you have a suitable host?”

“Of course,” came its reply. “I have selected several candidates that should be able to cope with the demands of the _Liberator_ at reduced capacity.”

“Good.” Blake started to cough and choke. It was painful to hear. Cally took him a drink and rubbed his back until the fit had passed. “I’m all right,” he said, straightening up. “Switching now.”

A momentary dimming of the lights and a drop in the constant hum that told of the busy workings of a thousand connections and systems throughout the ship was the only indication that Zen was no longer in control. Mindful of her premature celebration last time, Jenna caught herself holding her breath, waiting for the moment when the tenuous connection broke. The longer it persisted, the more her hopes were raised.

“All right,” said Blake cautiously. “Let’s try moving the ship. Sub-light speed, Jenna.”

An explosion thundered from the depths as the ship nudged forward. With the lights starting to blink, Blake threw the switch and cut out the failing host.

“Damn!” he swore under his breath. “Orac, you assured me―”

“I did no such thing,” came the computer’s querulous reply. “If you had listened, I stated the hosts selected ‘should’ be able to cope. That particular verb is used to indicate what is probable, not what is possible. Evidently they were unequal to the task.”

“Then find a host who is!” Blake returned angrily. “Or before I breathe my last, I will dismantle you into so many pieces, no one will ever be able to put you back together again.” 

Orac huffed. “Violence is the last refuge of the―”

“Incompetent, yes, I know. It’s going to be very satisfying, though.” 

Jenna waited for him to calm down. “Well, we know it works,” she said.

“As long as we don’t want to go anywhere.” He activated the intercom. “Avon, what happened?” Silence met his question. Blake tried again with the same result.

Then Gan replied. “Blake, I’m here with Avon. He’s unconscious. He won’t wake up.” 

“Was he hurt?”

“I don’t know. I’ve just found him. He’s breathing. I’ve got the mask on him. There’s something else.” His pause was significant. Jenna braced herself for more bad news. “There’s a fire in the corridor leading to the main drives. I can’t put it out by myself.”

“And all the while, it’s eating away at our oxygen.” Blake smacked his hand against the console out of sheer frustration. “All right, Gan, I’ll send Vila to help you. If that fire reaches the drives, we’re finished.”

“What about Avon?”

“Give him a stimulant shot.”

“He’s too weak,” said Cally. “Avon won’t―”

“We need him awake.” Blake cut her short. “We’ll make repairs and try again. Although,” he said with a heartfelt sigh, “I don’t know what else we can eliminate. We’ve stripped the system down to the basics as it is. We can breathe, but we can’t move.”

“There must be something you’ve missed,” said Jenna.

“I don’t know.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “A fresh pair of eyes might help, if you can manage it.” The intercom chimed again. “Yes, Gan.”

“I’ve given it to him,” he reported. “It had no effect.”

Blake remained where he was, as though carved from stone. “Give him another.”

“No,” Cally protested. “It will kill him.”

“Do it,” he said. “I’m sorry, Cally. Avon wanted to keep going. I’ll take responsibility if anything happens to him. Go ahead, Gan.”

“Eighty-nine per cent,” Orac piped up.

“What?”

“I have recalculated the odds against Avon's survival based on this new information.”

He snapped out the computer's key. “Someone will have to remind me one day why we keep Orac.”

As the long anxious wait continued, Vila came staggering in, hand clasped to his head. “I took a tumble when the lights went out,” he said in answer to Blake’s question. “Isn’t there an easier way to do this?” He looked embarrassed when he saw Cally. “What I mean is, why can’t Avon get it right?”

“He’s unconscious, Vila,” said Jenna severely.

“I wish I was,” he grumbled.

The intercom chimed. Blake quickly pressed the button.

“Avon’s all right,” said Gan. “He’s awake but groggy.”

Blake sighed with relief. “Stay with him and tell him what happened. Vila,” he said turning to him, “there’s a fire threatening the main drives. Do what you can to put it out.”

“Me?!” Vila bleated. A volley of coughs suddenly shook him until he was doubled up. His eyes widened with alarm when he saw blood streaked on the back of the hand he used to wipe his mouth. “I’ve caught what Avon’s got!”

“I’ll deal with the fire,” said Jenna, stepping down from her console.

“Be careful,” Blake called after her. 

“If I’d wanted a quiet life, I’d have stayed on Earth,” she said with an assured smile. “Come on, Cally, I'll need your help.”


	8. Chapter Eight

Distant thuds, like the rumble of an approaching thunderstorm, echoed down the empty corridor. Jenna stood listening, trying to locate the source. The fire had been contained, repairs were underway and there was an hour to until the deadline was up. Another test run had been planned, although there was a noticeable reluctance to put it into action. If it failed this time, there would be no more second chances. And now this, she thought. What next?

On the flight deck, picking her way through the accumulated clutter of stacked crates, boxes and makeshift beds draped with clothes, pillows and blankets, she found Blake nodding on the forward seating. She touched his shoulder to wake him and he came to with a jolt.

“I was meant to be on watch,” he said, trying to get up. He fell back dazed, and made a better effort on his second attempt. “I don’t remember closing my eyes.”

“You’re exhausted. We all are.”

He made a noise in the back of his throat that was part-cough, part-agreement. “I’ll have another stimulant shot. Are we ready for the test run?”

She nodded. “Blake, there’s something else.” His crestfallen expression was eloquent. “Odd sounds, coming from outside the ship, I think.”

“We’re under attack?”

“No. It could be failure of the superstructure.”

“Let’s hope not.” He slid Orac’s key into place. “We’re hearing noises. What’s happening?”

“The source of the disturbance should be obvious even to the meanest intelligence.” Still smarting from Blake’s earlier threat of electronic dismemberment, the computer sounded testy. “Should further explanation be necessary, I suggest you direct your questions to inferior devices.”

“Those ‘inferior devices’, Orac, are not responding to our commands, as well you know.”

“That is an assumption on your part, that has neither been verified nor tested.”

Blake glanced at Jenna, slow realisation taking shape on his face. “Zen,” he called out. “Report.”

Lights began to dance across Zen’s bronzed surface. “Primary and auxiliary failure has been detected across multiple systems. Auto-repair systems are unable to investigate.”

“That’s impossible, unless...” Blake could not tear his eyes from the screen as Zen continued with a full damage report. “Jenna, find Cally.”

She hesitated. Logically, there was only way Zen could be working again. “Blake...”

“We have to find Cally _now_!”

The intercom chimed. “This is Avon. What’s going on up there? The auxiliary computers are trying to override the bypass.”

“Zen is back with us,” said Blake. “Is Cally with you?”

“So,” came the heavy reply, “it begins. No, she isn’t. But then you already know that.”

“Not necessarily.”

“The Thirteen set out their terms. If Cally has gone―”

“Then we’ll have to get her back. Avon, restore the auto-repair circuits. They can handle most of the damage. And get the oxygen levels back to normal. We need to be ready to leave.”

“Without her?” Jenna queried when he had closed the channel.

“If she went willingly, I don’t see there’s much we can do,” he said. 

“She said the offer was genuine. She believed they had much to offer.”

Blake glanced at her. “Cally told you that?”

Jenna nodded. “We talked about it. I got the impression she wasn’t sure.”

“Something changed her mind.”

Blake coughing, Avon fainting, Vila succumbing and the ship failing probably had something to do with it, Jenna thought. In the days to come, there would be sadness and grief that would be fed by guilt and recriminations. Cally had made her decision freely and to start apportioning the blame would only cheapen her selfless act. With that in mind, Jenna said nothing as Blake activated the intercom again and tried to locate Cally anywhere on the ship. His called went unanswered and only served to summon Gan and Vila to the flight deck to investigate.

“Gone?” Vila echoed. “What, over there with the Thirteen, on that funny-looking ship of theirs?”

“They came for her and she went with them,” Jenna said. “That was the sound I heard: their vessel docking with the _Liberator_.”

“That’s it then.” Vila’s unhappy expression betrayed his feelings. “She didn’t even say goodbye.”

“That’s what’s worrying me,” said Blake. “Jenna, contact the Thirteen.”

“Blake, wait,” said Gan. “You’re assuming they took her. They said she had to go of her own free will. What if that’s where she wants to be?”

“I’ll accept it when I hear it from her,” he retorted. Avon chose that moment to put in an appearance. Visibly weak and relying on his respirator, his pace did have something of his old haste. Blake gave him a hostile glance. “I thought you were meant to be putting Zen back in control.”

“It can wait,” he said.

“Not if we suffocate!” protested Vila.

“We won’t. Environmental controls have been restored. Oxygen levels are rising as we speak.”

“Then we’ll be all right?”

“ _We_ will,” Avon said pointedly.

“I confidently predict,” Orac piped up, “that the survival of the remaining members of the _Liberator_ is now assured.”

“What about Cally?” Vila asked unhappily.

“We’re about to find out,” said Jenna. “Orac, relay this message. Thirteen, this is Eight. We must speak with you.” There was no response. Jenna tried again with the same result. “What now?”

“They’ve got what they want,” said Avon. “They have no need for us now.”

“I thought it was Zen they wanted,” said Vila. 

“Evidently they found someone better.”

As Blake turned to him, a single point of light suddenly formed on Zen’s screen and expanded, silencing further debate. The group were assembled as before, with the leader and spokesperson draped in silver with his long hair trailing over his shoulders standing at the front. A quick survey of their numbers revealed that Cally was not among them.

“We are Fourteen,” announced the leader. “You are Seven.”

“Yes, we are. Cally has gone. Is she with you?”

He gave a solemn nod. “It was her wish to pursue a higher purpose in our Whole. She came to us willingly. In return, we have to your care entrusted our most precious child.”

“We wish her well. But when she left us, we did not have a chance to say goodbye. We cannot leave without ‘making our peace’.” Jenna was careful about her choice of words, phrasing it in language the Thirteen had used. “We need to know she is well.”

“She is well. Our word is true.”

“We do not doubt it. However, we will have no peace unless we see her. It is our custom to say farewell before we depart.”

“The former of your Whole spoke of this,” said the leader. “She told us you would not leave without contact. She was desirous of making her peace in a message to you. Will you hear it?”

“Can we not speak to her in person?”

“She is preparing for her new purpose. She informed us that the message will satisfy your needs.”

Jenna glanced at Blake. His grim expression fed the growing sense of unease she was feeling. In reply, he gave a firm nod, and Jenna gave her assent. The image on the screen changed and Cally took the place of the silver sentinels. Framed against a glowing background, she was smiling serenely. She looked happy, Jenna thought, but appearances could never entirely be trusted.

“My friends,” Cally began, “this is not the way I wanted to say goodbye, but I knew if I told you of my intentions that you would try to change my mind. I _want_ this, I want to learn and discover everything the Thirteen have to offer. If I can bring that knowledge against the Federation, then they can be defeated and the oppressed can know freedom.” She bowed her head as though taking a moment to compose her thoughts. “You were right, Jenna, the _Liberator_ is a special ship, more important than me or Gan or Vila or Avon or Blake.”

Four pairs of accusing eyes suddenly turned in Jenna’s direction. “I never said that,” she uttered.

“You need Zen,” Cally continued. “The _Liberator_ can never be replaced and you must never leave it. This is my purpose. Goodbye, my friends, until we meet again.”

The image compressed to a bright pinprick of light and vanished.

“Jenna,” said Blake, almost disbelievingly. “What have you done?”


	9. Chapter Nine

“I didn’t say that.” Looking down on four unsmiling faces, Jenna was starting to feel as though her lofty station had become a bastion against a sea of hostile forces, each preparing to launch their sticks and stones against her at any moment. Words and the sting they would carry were going to hurt. With Cally’s admission, the mood of the ship had tipped against her. “That is the opposite of what I told her.”

“Then she misheard!” said Blake severely, his eyes locked on hers. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“This isn’t my fault! Cally is capable of making her own decisions. She told you that.”

“As long as she wasn’t pushed into one.”

“Not by me.” She was struggling and failing to convince them of her innocence. Blake’s expression never wavered. “We’re all responsible, every one of us. Orac with his predictions, losing control of the ship, you pushing all of us beyond our limits―”

“I didn’t ask any more of you than what I ask of myself!”

“Cally said you were going to kill Avon with a second shot and you ignored her.”

Blake glanced over to where Avon was standing, looking oddly detached from the conversation going on around him. “She was worrying unnecessarily.”

“There was no harm done,” Gan agreed. “Avon’s all right. Aren’t you?”

“I’ll let you know,” came the grudging reply.

“That’s not the point,” said Jenna forcefully. “Cally had her reasons for leaving, but they were nothing to do with what we discussed. The only blame I’m willing to accept is that I brought us here to The Void. I wasn’t to know the Thirteen would be here.”

The silence lingered. Blake continued to glare at her, the anger he usually reserved for the Federation suddenly turned on her. It was unsettling; with a few words, she had gone from trusted to traitor. Jostling for position was part of the daily round, but this was different. This was no game. None of them were fighting it, but were been willing, not to believe the best of her and the times when their fates had rested in her hands and she had won through, but to embrace this new, negative image of her without question. It felt like its own betrayal.

She could argue her case, but Blake was past listening. His unfaltering gaze was accompanied by a deliberately slow breathing, as though he was struggling to hold something back and losing. Before it gained mastery over him, Gan broke the tension.

“Jenna’s right,” he said, easing himself into one of the free seats. “It was a very slim chance anyway we could operate the ship without Zen.”

Vila blinked. “I thought we’d done it this time.”

“Possibly,” said Blake bitterly, finally looking away from her. “It might have worked.”

“Only ‘might’?! What did you have me humping all this stuff up here for if you didn’t think it could work?”

“It took your mind off your cough,” said Gan.

“No, it didn’t. All that huffing and puffing made me worse. If I’d know I was going to be dead, I wouldn’t have bothered.”

“Well, I won’t deny the situation was bad.”

“We were coping,” muttered Blake.

“No, we weren’t,” said Avon.

“We would have found a way,” he shot back. “We didn’t have to sacrifice Cally!” The anger was creeping back into his voice as he turned back to Jenna. “It wasn’t necessary.”

“I’ve already told you I never said anything to her.”

“Why would she lie?”

He had a point. She had no immediate answer in defence. Cally’s word could usually be trusted. But this made no sense, unless she had genuinely misinterpreted what Jenna had told her. That too seemed unlikely.

“It’s understandable, though,” Gan was saying as she pulled her attention back to the heated debate. “You do have a bond with Zen, Jenna.”

“Is that what you believe?” She looked from one face to another. Only Vila dropped his gaze, embarrassed. “That I would put Cally’s welfare before the ship? Zen is―”

“A machine,” Avon finished for her. “Whatever it once was, that is what it is now.”

Jenna fixed him with an unfriendly glare. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“As a matter of fact, I agree with you.” He discarded his respirator with casual indifference. “Cally is not vindictive. Had you said that to her, she would not have repeated it. Nor do I like pre-recorded messages. Why didn’t they let her speak? Why was she not with them?”

“Preparing for her new life, they said,” Vila spoke up.

“Whatever that means. She said the opposite of what you told her, Jenna, because―”

“It was a warning.”

“Precisely. She went willingly and then realised her mistake. The only clue she could give us was one Jenna would understand.” Avon’s eyes narrowed. “We should leave, now.”

“What? Without Cally?” Vila protested.

“We can’t help her. We don’t know what’s over there.”

“We have to try,” said Gan.

Avon smiled. “Be my guest.”

“We’re not leaving her behind,” Blake said firmly.

“She’s not asking for a rescue,” Avon responded. “She’s telling us to go while we still can. If we can.”

“We’ve got Zen back,” said Gan. “The ship is under our control again.”

“For now. But why settle for one when you can have both?”

“We’ll ask them after we get Cally back,” said Blake. “Zen, do we have anything on the structure of the Thirteen’s vessel?”

“No information is available.”

“Wait,” said Jenna. “There’s something I want to check. Orac, the ships recorded as lost in The Void, did any list the name Zen among their passengers or crew?”

“Negative,” came the reply.

“What’s wrong?” asked Gan.

“It’s what Avon said. Their understanding of the language is vague. I’m checking that Zen is their ‘child’ and not something else.” She raised her voice. “Orac, check for any variations on the name.”

“There is a Zendron of Arle listed as the senior flight co-ordinator on the exploratory vessel, _Calypso_.”

“Zendron,” Jenna whispered. Her gaze was drawn to the great glowing screen. “Not their child.”

“For child, read ‘creation’,” said Avon. He had the good grace not to show any satisfaction from being proved right. “What happened to the ship?”

“The ship is recorded as lost with seventy-eight members of crew 104 standard Earth years ago,” said Orac. “It was the first Terran vessel to enter The Void.”

“A dubious distinction,” noted Blake.

“So,” Avon said thoughtfully, “the Thirteen encounter humans and discover something they can use and develop into a sophisticated piece of technology.”

“Are you saying that this Zendron is inside Zen?” asked Vila.

“No. Zen has no organic components. It was created from a blueprint provided by the crew of the Calypso. Whether based on a single entity or a gestalt is largely irrelevant now. Whatever their original purpose for their creation, they were defeated by an inherent flaw: human will.”

“‘Only the curious have something to find’,” said Blake, echoing the words of the Thirteen. “Zen left them and fell into the hands of the System, who put it into the _Liberator_.”

“Zen can’t have been the first,” said Jenna. “The Thirteen said their ‘children’ had been made to wage war on each other. They said they had lost many.”

“Which would suggest Zen was not the first to make it home,” said Avon thoughtfully. “Or...”

“Or what?”

He glanced up at her. “Or they are able to maintain a tenuous link with their creations. ‘We heard his call’, they said. ‘And we are here’. They are trapped here, but Zen is not.” The furrows suddenly fell from his brow. “They have been waiting for their creations to return. Orac,” he called out, “how many ships have been lost in The Void?”

“Seventy-seven.”

“And Zen makes seventy-eight. The crew of the _Calypso_ finally reassembled.” Avon released a long, troubled breath. “If we assume Zen was the most advanced, what the System rejected would have been picked up by the Federation for their own ships. One by one, they came home and the Thirteen took back what was theirs. Except Zen.” He frowned again. “Why did they reject it in favour of Cally?”

Blake turned sharply to Jenna. “Was it your decision to come here or Zen’s?”

“Mine,” she said in confusion. “You were ill and we needed somewhere safe.”

“Are you absolutely sure?”

“Well, yes.”

Now she thought about it, she had her doubts. The Void was a long way to have come, when other options had been available. At the time she had considered them all and dismissed them in favour of the one place the Federation would never come. Or so she had told herself. In reality, The Void was the last place anyone would go, even in the midst of a crisis. Yet when the name had come to her, quite unexpectedly, it had seemed the most logical place to go. Years of listening to tales of what happened to the unwary had been forgotten with this one thought. It could only be that she had been led here, the voice of experience smothered by the will of another.

“The timing would suggest otherwise,” said Avon. “Once Zen was free of the System, it waited for an opportunity to influence you and brought us out here.”

“Not by choice.” Jenna stopped herself, wondering why she had said it or why she felt certain she was right. The link with Zen had never been stronger than in those moments when she had attempted to plead his case with the Thirteen. They could influence him, but they did not speak for him. “Zen knew removal from the _Liberator_ would end his existence. He didn’t want to die.”

“All right, if that’s true,” Blake said, rubbing his chin in thought, “then it means the Thirteen are able to control its actions through... what? Some form of computer control we don’t know about?”

“Synthetic telepathy,” Avon said. “The same way Zen was able to reach into our minds to use our memories against us. The Federation have been experimenting for many years with something similar with limited success. I imagine the Thirteen also encountered considerable difficulties in creating a workable process.” He started slightly as the light of realisation came into his eyes. “Only now, they have the real thing.”

“Cally!” Vila blurted. “No wonder they didn’t want Zen. They’ll turn her into one of their machines. We’ve got to get her back.”

“It’s all very well saying that,” said Gan, “but how? We can’t teleport over there without co-ordinates.”

“We won’t have to,” said Blake. “We’ll get there the same way Cally did.”

“They don’t want us,” Avon countered. “They want compliant volunteers with the necessary skills to fit their requirements. Fools, meddlers and enablers are not a good basis on which to base a computer programme.”

Blake gave a grim smile. “But pilots are.” His gaze turned to Jenna. “Do you think you can convince them you want to join their ‘Whole’?”


	10. Chapter Ten

“Fourteen,” Jenna announced. “This is Seven. Come in, please.”

Every instinct was telling her this was wrong. To contemplate offering herself up to an alien race and going over to their vessel into the unknown was bad enough; going through with it was madness. Orac had nothing to offer about the conditions she might face or where Cally might be or if she was still alive. There was no guarantee that she would be able to get back to the _Liberator_ , even with their advantage of the teleport.

Wrong perhaps, but also the right thing to do. If there was even a slim chance that rescue was possible, then her conscience would never rest knowing they had abandoned Cally to her fate. Blake had made the suggestion, but it was her decision to go. As expected, Avon had been the most vocal in opposition, stating every objection as if she had not already thought of them for herself. She might have listened too, except for the feeling she had something to prove. 

Now she had to try to convince the aliens to allow her on their ship.

“This is Fourteen,” said the leader, appearing from the bright spot that blossomed into the wider view of the group. “You are the First.”

“I have a request.” She took a deep, steadying breath. “Take me with you.”

The silver-bedecked leader was silent for the longest time. “That is not possible.”

“You accepted Cally.”

“Cally desired to join our Whole.”

“So do I.”

“Your Whole will be diminished by your loss.”

What was left of them, minus Avon who had gone to get the teleport operational, were standing on the stairs, out of the range of the viewscreen. Jenna did not have to look in their direction to know what she would see. Blake gnawing away at his finger, his full concentration directed towards what was happening on the flight deck; Vila with his usual anxious expression, fretting as though his life depended on it, and Gan leaning against the wall, head bowed as he listened to what she was saying.

“My Whole is dying,” she said. “Four members were afflicted by illness before we came here. Their condition has worsened. Soon I will be the only one left.” She injected as much desperation into her voice as she could manage. “I fear the loneliness.”

On the screen, the group stood in quiet contemplation before finally the leader spoke again. “This we understand. Our child was lost and you welcomed him into your Whole. For this, we have gratitude.”

“Then help me, please. I don’t want to be on my own.”

“Our child is with you.”

“I need the company of others like Cally. If you let me stay with you, then Zen will stay too.”

“Zen’s desire is to seek. You seek also. Zen has told us this.”

“Once, perhaps.” She tried to imagine how it felt to have that wanderlust crushed out of her. She had met other pilots like that, the ones who became afraid and a chose a life bereft of wonder and awe. She had always pitied them. Now she drew upon their memories to add utter conviction to her voice. “Without my friends, I will die too. Please, my only wish is to stay.”

“This was not of our expectation.” The leader seemed perplexed. “Our Whole is balanced with each part unique. We all contribute. What is it you offer us, Jenna Stannis?”

“My skills. My knowledge.” She shook her head. “I offer myself. That is all I have.”

“It is in our power and agreement to offer you a place in our Whole. We strive that together we may become greater than the individual components. There is no self within the Whole. Do you accept this?”

“Willingly.”

“Then we will come for you.”

“Come now,” said Jenna. “I do not want to watch my friends die.”

The leader confirmed that they would and the image shrank and vanished. Jenna breathed a sigh of relief. On the one hand, she had got want she wanted. Against that was the leader’s talk of giving up the self to the Whole. Whatever that involved had driven Cally to give them her warning. The prospect of the loss of identity was terrifying.

“Well done, Jenna,” said Blake, descending the steps to join her. “You made a convincing argument.”

She kept her reply deliberately cool. “It needed to be done.”

“Yes.” His tone implied that he understood. Sending Vila and Gan away to help with the repairs, he lingered at her side. “About what I said earlier.”

“I support you, Blake,” she returned, trying to keep her irritation in check. “I don’t ask for much in return.”

“I appreciate it.”

“Do you? You turned on me. I don’t expect Avon to be the only one to speak in my defence.”

He nodded. “I apologise. Tensions were running high and with Cally’s admission... well, I hope you understand.”

“I do. Doesn’t mean I like it.” She stepped down from her station and started away. “Excuse me, I have to get ready.”

“Jenna,” he called after her. She stopped and allowed him to catch up. “Promise me you’ll be careful over there.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“If you’re in danger at any time, you call us and we’ll get you back, with or without Cally.” He gave her arm a reassuring rub. “The _Liberator_ needs its pilot. And I need you to come back.”

It felt genuine. She accepted it graciously and returned his smile. “I will, trust me.”

“Oh, I do. Always. I’ll be waiting at the airlock.”

She left him and headed in the direction of the teleport. Entering, she found Avon seated at the console, slumped forwards with his head resting on his arms. He gave no sign that he had heard her and for a moment she assumed he was asleep. She was about to shake him awake when she saw his shoulders heave, and heard the deep breath he took and the rattle of a lingering cough as he cleared his lungs before sitting up. Confusion borne of exhaustion registered on his face as though he had not expected to find her there.

“Teleport bracelets,” she said.

“Ah.” They were beside him on the console. “One for you, one for Cally. I have adjusted the frequencies. According to Orac, the signal they use is extra-dimensional. By extension, so are they.”

“That would explain how they crept up on us without being detected.”

“It also means they could go back at any time.” He paused, waiting as she fitted the bracelets to her wrists. “Do I have to tell you again that going over there is foolish?”

“I never knew you cared.”

He remained stony-faced. “My concern is for the safety of this ship. Without you, our chances of escaping The Void will be based solely on the ability of the navigational computers to provide us with an astral fix. Without stars, that will be impossible.”

“Purely a practical consideration then?”

“Naturally. From that perspective, there is an argument for saying that it would be better if neither of you returned.”

“How do you work that out?”

“When the Thirteen realise that we have reneged on the deal, they will come for Zen.”

Jenna nodded. “I had thought of that. Back to square one then.”

A supercilious smile plucked at the corners of his mouth. “Not necessarily. I’ve got Orac analysing Zen’s systems for the programming responsible for the operation of the synthetic telepathy. Break the Thirteen’s external link with Zen and theoretically they will be unable to stop us leaving.”

“A pity you didn’t think of that before Cally left.”

“I didn’t bring us here,” he said coldly.

“I did it with the best of intentions.”

“Most mistakes usually are.”

The old spark was back in his tired eyes, encouraging enough for Jenna to want to give him a taste of his own medicine. 

“I’m sure we’d all do things differently, if we had our time again.”

The look he gave her told her she had touched a nerve. She held his gaze defiantly before he finally turned his attention back to the teleport.

“Be careful, Jenna.”

“Blake’s already said that.”

“It’s worth repeating.” 

No sooner had the words left his mouth than a sudden cough shook him and he shut his eyes against whatever internal pain was troubling him. The hand that stole to his ribs was telling.

“Can you manage the teleport?” Jenna asked with concern. “I might need to get away quickly.”

“I couldn’t sleep if I wanted to,” he replied. “The stimulant hasn’t worn off.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“I’ll see he stays alert.” Vila’s voice echoed down the corridor, followed by the sight of him running in their direction. “I’ll stick pins in him if he falls asleep.”

Jenna smiled despite herself. “I thought you were helping Gan with the auto-repair units.”

Vila shrugged. “I need Orac. I don’t know what I’m doing otherwise.” 

Avon gave a soft snort. “That’s the first sensible thing you’ve said.”

“Now I know you don’t mean that,” Vila countered confidently. “Not when you’re sitting there and I’m holding this pin.” Avon scowled back at him. “Anyway, I’d rather be here to see you get back, Jenna. You won’t be long, will you?”

A series of hollow thuds in the distance heralded the arrival of the alien vessel.

“Not if I can help it,” she answered him. “But if I don’t come back―”

“Don’t say that!”

“If I don’t,” Jenna said patiently, “set any course out of here and don’t change it, no matter how long it takes to get within sight of stars. If you change the heading, you’ll lose your bearings.”

“And our lives if we get this wrong,” Avon observed.

“Then you’d better get me back when I call, hadn’t you?”

“We will,” said Vila. “We’ll be in trouble if we don’t!”


	11. Chapter Eleven

The plasma bolt flattened itself against the force wall and dispersed. The ship bucked under a rippling wave of displaced energy. Thrown backwards, the chair smacked her squarely in the kidneys and slammed the breath from her body. Agonising pain spiralled from bruised muscles, leaving her grimacing. Barely had it begun to subside than Blake was giving another order. 

“Deactivate!”

“Bank five is finished,” Avon returned, his voice coming from somewhere below. She forced herself upright and there he was, down by the secondary console. He looked different, not with the worn pallor of illness, but back to his old self. So soon, she wondered? He must have reactivated the medical unit. He had had time to change too, although it had been a while since he had worn that tunic with the grey collar. “Drawing on six.”

“Zen! Power reserves?”

“At the present level of discharge,” the computer intoned, “reserves will be exhausted in two point three hours.”

The words rolled around her and Jenna had the strongest urge to say something about someone moving in for the kill. A name floated through her mind – Travis – and with it, the utter conviction that he was out there, commanding the ships that were pummelling the _Liberator_ in a controlled attack. The sense she had done this before was overwhelming. Then the moment was gone.

“Plasma bolt launched,” Zen announced.

“Bearing directly,” said Gan from behind her.

“Jenna, take command,” Blake said. “Gan, Vila, you help her.”

Beyond the forward seating, Blake gathered Cally and Avon in conference. She stared at them, the memory of seeing them in that place, in another time, with Blake in his green parka, plotting out tactics on the main screen, seared into her mind.

“Jenna, the plasma bolt!” urged Vila.

“Oh, yes. Activating.” She hurried down to the forward console just in time before the charge impacted. Again the ship lurched and she struggled to keep her feet. “Deactivating.”

Over on the other side of the flight deck, Blake would be pinpointing the pursuit ship that had done all the firing. Above Vila and Gan’s volley of information, she could just about hear him telling Avon and Cally exactly that. What next? That they would be low on power and no longer a problem. And then Cally would tell him that they could ignore it.

“So we can ignore it,” Cally said, right on cue.

A chill ran through her. It was impossible that she could know that. Impossible too for her to know that Blake’s next words would be that he had identified Travis’s ship and was advocating ramming it.

“Plasma bolt launched,” stated Zen.

“Bearing directly,” Gan called down her.

His warning went unheeded. She was trying to hear what Avon was about to say. If her memory was right, he was about to question Blake’s strategy. She was not disappointed.

“Ram it?”

“The _Liberator_ should be able to take the impact,” Blake was telling him.

He looked unimpressed. “I admire your confidence.”

So did she. Because something was telling her that, despite all that was familiar, something was very wrong. The bid to ram Travis’s ship had never been put to the test, thanks to Sinofar’s intervention. Exactly as before, three ships were bearing down upon them set against the black velvet of space in a place untouched by a single star.

“Jenna!” yelled Vila.

She activated the force wall with seconds to spare. The bolt struck, the power of its momentum knocking the ship several degrees from its trajectory. The lights flickered as the flight deck rose and fell with the violence of the impact. As they reeled backwards, Avon caught Blake and held him as a muttered discussion took place between them, ending in what sounded like agreement.

“Jenna, the force wall,” said Blake, returning to the navigational console. “Deactivate. We can’t afford the drain on the energy banks. Vila, Gan: we’re going for a ram, take out the command ship.”

Vila’s eyes widened in alarm. It was left to Gan to state the obvious.

“A ram?!”

“I don’t see there’s any other hope for us,” said Blake.

The urge to add her voice to his was irresistible. Still, as she stared at the empty canvas against which the scene was playing, she realised what was wrong.

“No stars,” she whispered. “Where are they?”

Configurations varied in constellations numbered by the million, but they were the one constant in a changing universe. Except for one place in the galaxy where no stars ever shone. Where no one ever went. Where ships went missing and people lost their minds.

“Jenna, you’ll have to fly us on manual,” Blake was urging.

“No.” She turned to him. “It won’t work.”

“We don’t have time for this. Where would the _Liberator_ best withstand the impact?”

She held her ground. “It won’t work,” she grated, “because this is not how it happened.”

“Jenna!” Blake grabbed her by the arm. “What’s the matter with you? This is the only way. Unless you have a better suggestion.”

She shrugged him away. “I’m not doing this!”

“Plasma bolt launched,” announced Zen.

“Bearing directly,” Gan yelled.

“I’d do it myself if you aren’t willing.” Blake pushed her out of the way. “Right, as soon as this one hits, we move. Stand by.”

Willing. He had never said that. Someone else had spoken those words and she had agreed, despite all her reservations because it was the right thing to do and because her conscience would never rest if they left Cally behind.

“Activate!” Blake was staring at her, eyes blazing. “Jenna, activate now!”

“No,” she said. “I am not willing.”

Avon raced towards her, too late. The plasma bolt found its mark and ripped through the outer hull. The explosion rent the air with fire that rose from every damaged console. A rising sea of red, yellow and orange licked the stately verticals of the flight deck and blurred their lines in the heat haze. 

Beside her on the floor, Avon was not moving, his clothes shredded and what remained of his face blackened. Tendrils of smoke had replaced the others at their stations. As the flames rose, glistening shards of glass cascaded from above. The uppermost console tipped, metal screaming as it buckled in on itself. When it collapsed, it crashed down into the others. Lights failed, giving way to the dancing shapes of the unfettered inferno. Flames taunted her, roasting her from every direction, creeping closer until they caught at her parka and the smell of her own burning flesh carried on the thick acrid smoke.

* * * * * * *

“Deactivate!” Blake ordered.

“Bank five is finished,” Avon returned, his voice coming from somewhere below. “Drawing on six.”

Jenna hurt but not how she was expecting. Her last sight had been of the skin on her hands burning to the colour of deep space, in a place where no star ever shone. Where ships were taken by an alien civilisation and their crews twisted into computer creations because they had said they were willing to accept what the Thirteen offered.

“Zen! Power reserves?”

“At the present level of discharge,” the computer intoned, “reserves will be exhausted in two point three hours.”

The others moved around her like people caught in a dream. Like any dream, none of this was real. Not Zen’s announcement or the plasma bolt running towards them or Gan’s words or Blake telling her to take command. She stepped down from her station and headed for the stairs. 

“Jenna, the plasma bolt!” Vila yelled.

“No,” she said. “I’m not willing.”

And the world exploded into a million stars around her.

* * * * * * *

“Deactivate!” Blake was ordering.

“Bank five is finished,” Avon returned, his voice coming from somewhere below. “Drawing on six.”

It was hard to breathe. The chair had smacked her in the back, leaving her grimacing in pain. She focused on the sensation and felt her mind clear.

“Zen! Power reserves?”

“At the present level of discharge,” the computer intoned, “reserves will be exhausted in two point three hours.”

It was the same every time. Somewhere the Thirteen were watching, mining her memories. It would play over and over until they got what they wanted, a demonstration of her skill to use and develop so that the ‘child’ they would create would be greater than those that had gone before. No, she resolved, it was not going to happen. She was unwilling and she had an ally. 

“Plasma bolt launched,” Zen announced.

“Bearing directly,” said Gan from behind her.

“Jenna, take command,” Blake said.

That’s exactly what I’m going to do, she thought. “Zen,” she called out loud. “I know you can hear me. I know what they did to you and your crew. They will do the same to us. Help me.”

She held her breath waiting for the response. The lights chased across the giant screen and finally Zen spoke.

“Confirmed.”

The scene stuttered to a halt. Blake froze mid-step. The flight deck felt like it was retreating from her, leaving her stranded in an empty centre. Images flattened and lost tangibility until they revolved around her in a never-ending circle, a perpetual rolling viscast of memories that blurred into a kaleidoscope of colours. Muddied faces merged into scrambled places until all become one that faded under the glow of the chamber and she was left alone.

A square room with illumination bleeding through the walls, there was no way out. The glare made the edges indistinct so where the wall ended and the ceiling began she could not tell. She glanced down at her wrists; the teleport bracelets were still there. It had been the memories they were after, actions and reactions and the ability to adapt to any situation, not inferior technology.

What now? Would the watchers take revenge? Or would she be rejected because she was unwilling?

Not waiting to find out, she crawled warily to the nearest wall. The intense light was blinding, but gave off no heat. Shielding her eyes, she searched for something, a crevice, a seal, anything that would betray a clue about how she had arrived there. No door, no odours, nothing to excite the senses at all, just that surrounding glow in a prison that was a perfect cube. She tried not to let it unsettle her. If there was a way out, it was just a matter of keeping her mind clear until she found it.

Cautiously, she extended one hand towards the brilliant surface. The closer she got, the more her fingers bent away from it, as if recoiling of their own volition. She forced them to stretch out, pausing a fraction before she made contact and then forced her hand forward. The light yielded, moving softly around her fingers, eddying in their wake. Haloes of ever-growing rings formed in the places where her hand had been as she drew back, inspecting her skin for damage. Finding nothing, she pressed forward again, pushing her arm into the light followed by her shoulder and then finally, after a moment of pause, her head. 

She found herself looking into the memories of the trapped. The stellar flash of neutron blasters against the empty sky, the whisper of words into the ears of a lover, the crunch of iced leaves in winter woods, the lazy spiral of birds riding air currents, a mother smiling at the child she raised into the air against the blue of the heavens, the lap of salted oceans against bare feet. Boxes within boxes, each with their fading inhabitants, prisoners in the present, reliving the past in their minds, watching and being watched.

Prying into the innermost depths of their souls felt like a violation. Willing or not, their lives had been laid open to scrutiny and research as if they were nothing more than laboratory specimens. Somewhere amongst them was what was left of the lost pilot known as Zendron. 

But it was not for him that Jenna was searching. A glimpse of a familiar corridor flashed below with a lone figure lit by the sterile glow of the _Liberator’s_ overhead lighting. Jenna watched as she paused, watching the man at work in the teleport area. From above, Avon appeared as a single dark spot, moving fluidly between the consoles and smothering out the winking electronics as he bent over to delve into the ship’s innermost workings. Cally stopped beside him. Words passed. 

Jenna thought back. She would be asking him about the forward detectors. When he left, she would sabotage them. Her hand would burn and she would not feel it because she was under the control of the creature at the heart of the web. The Thirteen were investigating her telepathic abilities by making her relive a time when she had been compromised.

She knew she had to get to her. Straight down seemed the fastest way. Jenna swung her legs around until they dangled into the abyss. Then she dropped.

Cally made no reaction at the sudden presence of the intruder in her midst. With Avon gone, she was unrolling a tool pouch and selecting the instrument she needed to inflict maximum damage on the detector links. 

“Cally,” Jenna called. The reality that Cally’s mind inhabited did not reject her. In this time, her past self was on the flight deck telling Blake about a malfunction in the PN overrides.

Cally still did not respond. She thrust the tool into the heart of the computer and sparks flew. When she withdrew her hand, the skin was red and inflamed. Any minute now, Blake and Avon would be heading in this direction.

“Cally!” Jenna yelled.

Finally she turned. A weapon was in her hand.

“I should regret the necessity to kill you,” she stated.

There it was again, that feeling that someone else was looking back at her from eyes with pupils that had exploded to fill the iris. 

“This isn’t how it happened!” Jenna responded. “You know it. Fight it!”

Cally advanced. “Move back to the flight deck.”

Jenna turned slowly to allow Cally to draw within reach. With a swift movement, she smacked the weapon from her hand. Cally fell backwards onto the floor, the gun spinning away from her grasp. As she scrabbled to regain it, Jenna grabbed her, slapped her around the cheek and, with her hands either side of her face, forced her to look at her.

“Cally, come out of it!” she shouted. “You are not willing! Listen to me! Remember who did this to you!”

She was still struggling. Jenna tightened her grip. The sound of running footsteps was growing closer.

“It’s over,” she reiterated. 

Cally blinked and the blank look in her eye was replaced by new awareness. Thank you, her voice echoed in Jenna’s mind. And then confusion contorted her features. “This isn’t how it happened,” she said. “We were on the flight deck.”

As before, the world started to retreat. The approaching figures of Blake and Avon flattened against the wall and became part of the swirling whole.

“We have to get out of here,” said Jenna, pressing the spare teleport bracelet into Cally’s hands. “Put that on. Let’s go.”

Cally hesitated as she closed the bracelet around her wrist. “Leave?” She sounded dubious. “Do I want to leave?”

The walls started to close in again. The spiral of colours coalesced and began to take shape.

“We can’t stay,” Jenna insisted.

“I was happy here.” Tears dribbled down Cally’s cheeks. “I’m home, Jenna. Don’t you see? I’m back on Auron.”

The walls advanced, threatening to swallow them up. Jenna took her by the shoulders and shook her. 

“It’s an illusion.”

“No,” Cally cried. “This is real. Let me go home.”

The burning glow of the walls lit her face and washed out her features. If Cally was willing to remain, Jenna knew she would be trapped here with her. 

“ _Liberator_ , now!” she shouted into her bracelet. 

She wrapped her arms around Cally and held her tightly as she cried and a comforting white light embraced them and kept the falling walls at bay.


	12. Chapter Twelve

“Jenna, have you seen Vila?”

Midnight on the _Liberator_ , artificial hours in a place as far away from Earth as it was possible to be. With a scattering of distant stars heralding an end to The Void, behind them lay an expanse of endless night. People died out there. They lost their bearings, their ships and their minds, yielded up to the group who called themselves the Thirteen, forever in pursuit of perfection.

They had not followed when Jenna and Cally had been teleported back to the ship. Vila, waiting impatiently for their return, had been quick to inform them that Orac had identified the systems responsible for the process of synthetic telepathy. In the final minutes when the ship had powered up and the Thirteen had reappeared on the screen threatening to take Zen in lieu of Cally, a choice had been made. It would take more time than they had to remove the link from the main and auxiliary computers, Avon had reported. Whilst it remained, the _Liberator_ would never be free from the Thirteen’s influence. No other way, he had said, except complete destruction.

A well-aimed blast had ended it. In that moment of parting, Jenna had felt the bond die. The brush of another consciousness faded into nothing. She told herself there was a comfort in knowing that her decisions were her own again. There was an acknowledgement too that whatever had lured her to The Void had not been Zen’s doing. The affinity they had fostered had been through the meeting of like minds. Enough had remained of the person on which Zen had been based to recognise her for what she was and to respond when that was threatened. And now it was gone.

As Avon was fond of saying, Zen was just a machine. With the destruction of the link, the ship was secure and Zen’s inner voice had been silenced forever. Jenna allowed herself to grieve for the loss of a kindred spirit. She kept it to herself, certain none of the others would understand. 

None except Cally. If her experience was anything like the natural telepathy shared by the Auronar, then she had a new appreciation of the isolation caused by the severing of that bond. Cally had wanted to stay with the Thirteen because they offered her a return to what she had lost, and she had wept bitter tears when again it was ripped away from her.

In the long hours since, she had made no reference to it. Beyond the usual passing words of concern, it had been assumed she was glad to be back with them. In the presence of the others, Jenna had not pressed the issue and Cally had gone about her duties without a word of complaint. With the end of the ordeal in sight, Jenna knew there were things that needed to be said. For now, there were more pressing concerns.

“Vila is here, Cally,” she answered her.

“What is he doing here?” Vila was curled up on the forward seating, swaddled in a blanket, mouth hanging open and snoring gently. She went over to inspect him. “He should be in bed.”

“He says he’s dying. He wanted company.” Jenna stopped herself, hearing familiar words. “We’ve had this conversation before.”

“Yes. I say that when I last checked him, he was improving.”

“And I say he’s looking for sympathy.” 

She swallowed hard and glanced about, trying to pierce the façade. If this was the past repeated, then the escape from the Thirteen had never happened and they were living in a construct, under observation by beings who had no concept of freedom, save by their own narrow definition. The prisoner had to be willing to sacrifice their future to live forever in their memories. Fine if the memories were good ones, but Jenna could recall too many hard-fought battles and lost friends to make that prospect appealing. Worse too, in the past the Thirteen had created, she could remember the heat of fire on her face and the lick of flames on her skin.

Only one way to be sure, she decided. If she was right, Vila’s waking words would prove it.

“Wake him up,” she said. “Let’s find out.”

Cally knelt at his side and gave him a gentle shake. Vila stirred and opened pained, bleary eyes. He gave a weak cough and tried to sit up, shedding his blanket as he did so. Cally helped him upright and offered him a drink. He took a few hesitant sips and fell back against the cushions, bereft of energy.

“Am I dead?” he uttered.

Jenna saw the concerned look Cally shot in her direction. Only when Vila spoke again could she release the breath she had been holding. This was not the doing of the Thirteen. This was the _Liberator_ , the present. This was home, for now.

“I feel like I am,” he was whining. “Everything hurts. I’m not well, I know I’m not.”

“You’re fine, Vila,” Cally said patiently. “You are over the Terran Ague and you’re breathing normally again.”

“Tell my muscles that! I’ve been worked half to death carrying blankets and boxes up corridors and down stairs and up again!” He gingerly probed his back and winced dramatically, making the most of the attention. “I suppose a massage is out of the question?”

“Yes, it is.” She looked offended. “If you are in that much pain, you should go to your bed and rest.”

“I would. But I thought you might need a hand. You know, to get away from them.” He nodded to the screen. “They aren’t out there, are they?”

“How would you know?” said Jenna. “You’ve been asleep for the last three hours.”

“I was here if you needed me,” he replied defensively. “Which is more than you can say for anyone else. Where are they, anyway?”

“Gan is finishing up the last of the repairs,” said Cally. “Blake has fallen asleep in the recreation room and Avon’s locked himself in his quarters. He said something about not being disturbed on pain of death.”

“Again?”

“He has been ill, Vila.”

“Ill?!” he scoffed. “He doesn’t know the meaning of the word. You didn’t see me making a fuss.”

“At least it hasn’t affected your memory.” Jenna grinned at him. “Don’t worry, we’re free of them.”

“I’m glad about that.” He got unsteadily to his feet, making a show of supporting his aching back. “I wouldn’t have fancied being one of their ‘children’. What would they have called me? Vil?”

“They didn’t want you. They wanted people who had skills and experiences they could use.”

“I’ve had experiences,” Vila retorted indignantly. “I’ve got skills too. They took everyone off the Calypso, right? That includes the cook and the man who washes the windows.” He tried to stand a little taller, grimacing with every tiny movement. “Are you telling me the ship’s cook and window cleaner have more to offer than me?”

“When they took the Calypso, they didn’t know what they needed,” explained Cally. “Individual experiences wouldn’t have mattered anyway. Each mind was a focus for the collective and able to draw on all their memories. Whatever their ‘children’ encountered on their travels, they had a memory and, if not a ready solution, the Thirteen were able to manufacture one by having the appropriate person relive that moment in the past with whatever variant they chose. A living memory bank, if you like.”

“Think what they were missing with me,” Vila mused. “Bet they didn’t have a thief in that collective of theirs.”

“They weren’t looking for disruptive elements,” Jenna said. “That’s why they wouldn’t have accepted Blake or Avon. I was offering them a pilot for a pilot.”

“Yes, about him. Did you see Zendron?”

She shook her head. “We couldn’t have helped him anyway. They had been there so long, they were like the Thirteen, caught between the past and the present. If we had brought them with us, they would have died. At least there, they were alive. If you can call that living.”

“Orac said they were exploiting a time rift that existed at the centre of The Void,” said Cally. “That is why they cannot leave.”

“But their ‘children’ could,” said Jenna with a heavy sigh. “When their human will asserted itself, they had no choice but to let them go.”

“And then they ended up in the hands of the Federation and the System,” said Vila. “Not much fun, is it? At least we know they didn’t kill Zen. They just incorporated him into the ship.” He contemplated the bronzed dome looming over the flight deck. “I wonder what he looked like when they found him?”

“Nothing physical, Avon says,” Cally told him. “He seemed to think Zen and the others would have been transmitted like computer code.”

“A person reduced to a load of electronic babble?” Vila pulled a face. “Makes you think.”

“You, think?” Jenna gave a short laugh. “Avon will be sorry he missed that.”

“He’s sorry about losing the synthetic telepathy too,” he said, rolling his eyes. “He was saying technology like that would be worth a fortune. Mind you, he says that about everything.”

“He’s not wrong. It would be a dangerous weapon in the wrong hands.”

“Just as well it’s gone then,” said Vila brightly. “Who needs it anyway? We’ve got the real thing.” He sidled up to Cally. “I’m glad you’re back. It wouldn’t have been the same without you.”

“Thank you, Vila.” She glanced at him uncertainly as he lingered at her side. “What is it now?”

“Is there anything you want me to do?”

“No.”

“Well, in that case...” As a variety of exaggerated expressions suddenly contorted his features, his next question was predictable. “Cally, can I go to bed now?” he asked.

“Yes, go,” she said impatiently. “We can manage.”

Vila limped painfully away, every step punctuated by a little agonised moan. Cally watched him go, concern etched on her face.

“Should I help him?” she asked.

Jenna arched a brow. “Remember that conversation we had about him wanting sympathy?”

“Yes.” Her demeanour sobered. “That seems like a long time ago.” 

She fell silent, head bowed in thought. Jenna did not press the issue, instead busying herself with the conflicting readouts from the navigation computers as they struggled to place their position on the borders of The Void. Cally would speak when she was ready. 

“You didn’t tell them,” she said at last.

“It’s not mine to tell.” Jenna finally looked up from the scrolling screens. “I suppose I did do the right thing?”

Cally gave a firm nod. “I wanted to come back, despite what I said. I knew it wasn’t real. But, just, for a while, it felt like I was home.” A single shining tear spilled down her cheek. “It was good to remember what that was like.”

Seeing the grief she was struggling to suppress, Jenna descended from her station and laid her hand lightly on Cally’s shoulder. She did not flinch away, instead accepting the comfort of physical reassurance in the absence of the mental contact she craved. It was a small enough gesture under the circumstances.

“On Auron, everything is shared and known,” Cally said, wiping away her tears. “I should tell them. I am not used to keeping secrets.”

“Do you think they’ll understand?” She gave her a dubious look. “They certainly took your message the wrong way.”

Cally put her hand to her mouth in shock. “I’m sorry, Jenna. I never meant for you to come back. When I discovered their intent, I wanted to warn you to stay away. I thought you would understand.”

“I did, eventually. Not before we all had an _interesting_ discussion.” She avoided Cally’s searching gaze. It was over, and if not entirely forgotten, then forgiven. “Look, it’s up to you, of course, but if I were you...”

“You wouldn’t?”

Jenna shrugged. “I wouldn’t know where to begin.”

It was true. The more she thought about it, the more fantastical it seemed. It had always been there, of course, from the first encounter where Zen had plucked memories from their minds and turned it against them. She had told Blake and Avon that Zen had meant them no harm and she had been right. What had it been – a test twisted into a defence by the Altas? A search for people who could tell illusion from reality so when the time came and the Thirteen called him back he would come armed with allies? She flattered herself that he had found them, because the test had never been made again when others had come onto the ship. If so, the Thirteen had been correct when they stated that Zen had found his ‘whole’. The name she had chosen for the ship had been more apt than she could have ever imagined.

She hoped too he had finally found his peace. Not in being ripped from the _Liberator_ to have his consciousness transformed and adapted to suit the schemes of the Thirteen, but in finding a new kind of freedom, in a ship and a star to steer her by, and companions for the journey. Even if their bond was gone, she could still recognise the soul of one who, though born of earth, chose to live by air.

“Do you think he is content?” Cally wondered aloud, following the direction of her gaze.

“Let’s ask him,” said Jenna, returning to her station. The navigation computers had finally fixed their location. Twelve sectors lay before them. “Zen, are you ready?” she called.

“All systems functioning,” the computer intoned. “Status is firm. Please state course and speed,”

“Space City, Zen. Standard by five.”

“Confirmed... Jenna Stannis.”

She smiled to herself. Perhaps something of their bond remained, after all.


End file.
